


His Words

by TomWaitsForNoMan



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Accidents, Awkward Flirting, Blood and Gore, Don't Try This At Home, Medical Inaccuracies, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:54:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29819031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TomWaitsForNoMan/pseuds/TomWaitsForNoMan
Summary: You got into a little accident after trying to save your confession to Medic. Now you have to see the doctor and hope you can keep your composure.
Relationships: Medic (Team Fortress 2)/You, medic/ reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 28





	His Words

**Author's Note:**

> I thirst for german doctor.

There was something hidden in his words that changed the way you saw him. The quirky way he couldn't pronounce his W's and would never tongue his th's, the boisterous way his pitch would change throughout every phrase; it made you tingle and flush in a way you hated to love. Every time you walked into his presence-- regardless of the reason-- he would find a way to greet you. From his reticent rambling all the way to his fanatical cheering, you adored every syllable. 

Currently, however, you did not want to see nor hear the doctor. 

For the last several nights, you were up gathering German poetry that you would assimilate into a confession. You weren't the most upfront individual, even in intense social situations you tended to stay quiet unless spoken to directly. Expressing yourself was difficult, the access to your voice at times was limited by anxiety, but you found out it wasn't all terrible. It had made you into a damn good listener. 

The bold and nutty man that had hooked you, the one that was violently curious, the one that made messes and cleaned them up with more messes; he was a giant fan of poetic expressions. Truthfully, it was the last thing you would have expected him to enjoy. He was inconsistent, impatient, scattered, and overall a very busy man, but-- clearly-- that didn't stop him from delving into literature here and there.

So why didn't you want to see him?

Your note was charred by Pyro in a peculiar set of circumstances. The bottom line is that in your attempt to save your confession, you accidentally dropped it down the sink. Unfortunately, your left arm was torn to shreds trying to grab its remains when the garbage disposal suddenly turned on. You felt like sobbing-- and not just because of all the lost hard work. But of course, you were still pretty bummed out about that as well. 

The efforts you went through trying to translate each word without any help were extensive, only having a mere German to English dictionary to guide you through each sentence. Regardless, you powered your way to finishing your masterpiece of a letter. It was perfectly constructed in a popular stylistically German format! Every word was checked and grammatically plausible, it had romantic quips and played with word meanings, and it even had a lovely ballad to conclude it, detailing the nighttime thoughts you had of him and how you wish he was yours…

WELL NOT ANYMORE!

With a heavily bleeding arm, a scrunched expression, and several unhinged moments encouraging you to unleash violence upon any and every living creature that you happened to encounter; you limped your way to his lab. Needless to say, things weren't going the way you planned them to. You weren't going to show up and recite a beautiful poem expressing your admiration-- no, no, no-- you had to get your stupid arm sewn back together by the man you wanted to smooch. Medic was sure to make fun of you for your stupidity, as well. 

An unavoidable blush crept to your face at the mere mention of his title. 

You sauntered into the room, pushing your way in with your right arm as you narrowed your eyes in search of Medic. However, he spotted you first.

"Ah! Hallo, Schatz! Schön dich zu sehen!(It's good to see you!)" He danced over to you, not bothering to fret about your obviously mangled appendage, instead, taking it into his hand to study it. "Hmm… I see ve have gotten into some troubles, yes?"

He didn't give you time to answer his question, already pulling you to the metal cot in the center of the room.

"No matter, my dear! You are in ze right place!" 

His knuckles curled slightly as he nudged your shoulder, prompting you to take a seat. The cool surface was a welcoming sensation, briefly distracting you from the burning of your arm. His grip was careful, lifting it and bringing it to a tool table adjacent to your body. Hot and thick blood oozed from the cuts and scrapes of your arm, its vivid color matching the crimson of the doctor's gloves. His fascinated smile never left his face. 

"Vhat could you have done to require zhis much assisting?" He inquired teasingly, leaving you unsure if you should actually tell him. Your cheeks warmed as you saw him rub antiseptic on his hands, his thick fingers seemed so lonely, and you couldn't help but imagine his hand yours. His piercing eyes-- accentuated by a thick raised brow-- bore into yours, and his smile twitched crooked. "Hmm?"

"I--uh…" You nearly forgot the question, lost in your romantic dwelling. A subtle panic coursed through you, knowing you needed to think of something quick. "I just dropped something doing dishes and leaned in to grab it, and-- well, you know."

"Fascinating." He purred, envisioning the strange occurrence with his own eyes. The intensity of his gaze was enough to melt your brain into a puddle of bubbly squeals. His hand caressed the opening of a particularly deep scratch and you suddenly remembered everything that led you to your position, leading you to hum in discomfort. The adrenaline masked the pain for long enough for you to stay conscious, but you'd be a liar if you said the hurt wasn't overwhelming. 

A thin hiss slid from your lips as he poured antiseptic up and down your tattered arm, the color in your face draining lightly. Despite all of that, you couldn't shake the emotion that swelled in your chest at the thought of him regularly taking care of you like this-- even though it was technically his job. 

"Medic?" Your unsteady voice started, earning a curious glance from his cold, yet beautiful ocean eyes. His smile quickly disappeared as he noticed you beginning to lean back with a distinct lack of control. 

"No, no! Ve don't want you laying back, zhat vill cause many problems!" He explained as if you were listening, grabbing your shoulders and holding you up to stare blankly at him. 

He really did have the most wonderful cheekbones, complemented by his wide smile and circular glasses. What you would do to have him whisper sweet nothings in your ear as you held his face in yours 

"Too much blood to zhe brain can lead to me having to do more work." 

"Oh no, more work for my darling Medic? We wouldn't want that." You mumbled grumpily, blood loss and intense pain putting a slight damper on your mood. You didn't notice the way his cheeks lightly flushed, his brows crunching at your sarcastic banter. 

"Wie wäre es, wenn ich dich ausbluten lasse und ich meine Leiche meinen Vögeln füttern kann?" He muttered, the sound traveling directly into your ear as he leaned over your shoulder to tie the tourniquet tightly on your arm. 

Your body found spare blood to rush to your face. He smelled like blood and chocolate, which was, surprisingly, not an awful combination. 

You couldn't stand hearing him say things to you in German like that, even when you understood it. Nevertheless, whether or not knowing what he said, you loved imagining his murmurs as words of endearment during the lonely hours of the night, rubbing circles on the back of your neck to help you relax. 

"You are quite zhe handful, Schatz." The sound of his language bouncing off of his tongue so casually made your head pound and your stomach curl. It was that, or your body really didn't appreciate losing that much blood.

He must have noticed your tense expression because he paused to glare at your features, pursing his lips in a thoughtful manner. Your face boiled over with conspicuous embarrassment as he peered from beneath his eyelids, watching as he slowly got back to patching up your arm.

"Du darfst atmen, Liebling." He rumbled, his tone walking the line between a whisper and praise. Your face morphed into one of confusion, the lack of fluency in his language apparent on your expression. "Entschuldigen-- I mean I'm sorry; I just vanted to remind you that you are allowed to breathe."

A shaky breath burst from your lips, a surprise to you that you hadn't even noticed your lack of respiration. Your cheeks burned hotter. 

"Sorry." You breathe out, trailing your eyes across his hands as they maneuvered between your fingers and squeezed your wrist. His medi-gun was on a powerful setting, dulling your pain and patching the superficial layers of skin and tissue with ease. One quick glance at your arm told you it was as good as new. You didn’t wait for his approval and instead hopped down from the table. The sudden movement combined with the substantial amount of blood you lost was enough to remove functionality in your legs.

You fell forward.

Whether or not his reflexes were heightened by medical practices or combat, you'd like to both thank and curse his impeccable reaction timing. Like a hook, he wrapped his arms underneath your armpits as your chest pressed up into his. Your legs-- that were already not working-- felt soft and unstable, knees shaking pathetically as your hands reached to grab his shoulders. 

They were broad and strong, cushioned by his coat and hidden from perverted eyes like yours. His eyes were widened in alert, his feet shuffled awkwardly to encourage your body to begin working again. The nervous gaze he had sent butterflies into your stomach and you didn't have time to process your next words.

"Sie haben schöne Schamhaare." You sputtered out, your grip on his shoulders tensing. 

He looked at you in shock, his eyes dilated and painted with confusion. Panic ran through your mind, unsure of you even said the right thing to him, calculating the chances of you fucking up your whole relationship. He probably thought you were weird now…

Your brooding was interrupted by high perched cackling, one arm leaving your pit and pulling you into an embrace. Confusion, excitement, and even more concern flooded your body, and as his laughter dissolved into a soft chuckling in your ear, your fear faded to giddiness.

He smirked at you as your mouth stood agape, his eyes narrowed into a teasing glance. 

"I understand you probably meant somezhing different, but might I say I vouldn't mind actually showing you." He winked as he let you go, your face red, your body warm, and your pride in shambles. You had no idea what you said or even what you meant to say. All you could decipher in your scattered thoughts was the embarrassment, shame, and a little bit of giddiness you felt.

Medic laughed lowly as you held your flushed face in your hands when leaving the lab. You can only hope he doesn't know...


End file.
